The Pheonix, Harry, Charlotte and Other Old Friends

Buried beneath the pile of legos, walkie talkies, a punching bag, more legos, and other plastic crap toys from Santa's workshop, was one last, lonely present.

"For Tommy, love Grampa", the tag read.

Tommy tore at the wrapping paper and found a shiny new copy of Edith Nesbit's, The Pheonix and the Carpet.

His first chapter book.

Once the Christmas chaos and new toy novelty slowed to an after-holiday crawl, he picked up the book and asked his Dad to read him a chapter.

And he was hooked.

Every night before bed he and his Daddy snuggled together beneath the covers and were granted glorious wishes by the magic carpet.

Over plates of hot pancakes each morning he recounted to me the adventures that he heard and imagined the night before.

"Mom. Mom. Mom. And then. And then. The Phoenix, he um, TALKS! He talks and the carpet? The carpet gives the kids wishes...".

The excitement in his eyes was contagious. It brought me back to my early reading years. When I had finally learned how to string letters together to make words. Words! When an entire day could slip away while I explored another world. All. By. Myself.

That weekend I made a solo trip to Borders where I had the luxury of browsing the bookshelves. Inevitably, I found myself in the Independent Reader section.

Oh, what a trip back in time.

All my old friends were there.

I found the Cricket in Times Square peering out from his matchbox to share a joke with his buddy, Stuart Little. Then I saw my favorite playmate Ramona (she and I spent many a lazy summer afternoon together). She was helping her friend Andrew as he choked down a glass of Freckle Juice. Together they helped spin Charlotte's Web so quickly that the moment seemed to pass like a mere Wrinkle in Time.

I spent that Saturday afternoon nostalgically catching up with my old pals while sipping a indulgent latte. Perfection in the middle of a cold winter.

When I returned home later that day, the last chapter of The Phoenix and the Carpet had been read in my absence. Energized by my recent trip down memory lane, I flew into the basement and frantically opened every box I found labeled "books" (we still haven't completely unpacked). I dug through all those years of adventures looking for my 1970-era copy of Charlotte's Web, sure that it would be the perfect book to read next.

I never found Charlotte or her web in the basement that day (but I know she's down there somewhere). I did run into Jo, Beth, Meg and Amy as they were nervously making their way across the Bridge to Terabithia. I also found some old, dusty papers which I think were From the Mixed up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. As I was digging through the last box, Hagrid jumped out, grabbed my hand and led me upstairs.

Now every night before bed (and sometimes on a nothing-to-do-after-school-afternoon), we read aloud a chapter at a time, making our way into the world of wizardry. We have accompanied Harry to his sleeping cupboard, the zoo, and a shanty at sea. I think he's going to Wizard School next...

Tommy listens so intently. I think I can almost see the images in his mind as the words are read to him.

As much fun as reading aloud to him is, I can't wait for him to be able to pick up a book and get lost in a story. All. By. Himself.

Will he spend his summers chumming around with Ramona and Henry? Will he help the Box Car kids solve mysteries, or slip away into another world through a secret wardrobe?

I hope so.

And I hope he tells me all about it.